Improve Your Spanish While Whitewater Kayaking in Chile

I would not claim that I am generally a multitasker. Sure, I can perform two tasks at the same time, but I prefer to focus on one or the other. Patting the head, let’s say, or rubbing the stomach.

Nevertheless, I need a few simultaneous tummy rubs to reach some of my head-patting goals. Take, for example, whitewater kayaking and Spanish-speaking.

Whitewater kayaking captured me—mind, body, and soul—a dozen years ago, and even hornswoggled me into the ranks of certified whitewater instructors. In all that time, with all that experience, you’d think
I would have the basics down by now. But the lazy truth is, when I got good enough at some skills, others didn’t seem necessary, or as necessary, anymore.

When I first started paddling in whitewater, I wobbled and flipped the boat over in most every ripple and rapid. My Eskimo roll, the ability to upright myself from the submerged position, kept me afloat, and I practiced
the valuable skill often. But as I improved, I neglected this much-needed skill. In return, it eluded me.

While studying in Spain during college, I had no choice but to use castellano. It captivated me much like kayaking has. Since then, however, spoken Spanish has drifted from me, if not completely drowned.

The solution to both problems seemed to be in one place: Chile. I began by contacting friends who had paddled in the long, thin South American country, where so many glacier-fed, westering waterways cascade from Andean peaks
that kayakers could boat a different section of river almost every day of the year. Most whitewater outfitters in Chile operate on Patagonian rivers, in the southern part of the country, but I opted for central Chile, where just one company plies
the waters. Chilean Adventures specializes in whitewater kayak trips, but its co-owners—American Todd Ericson and Chilean Eduardo Doerr—are proponents of experiential education. They also run annual high school, university,
and gap-year programs, and adult Spanish courses as well.

So I began my 2-month tour of Chile solo, but quickly connected with the Chilean Adventures crew, who by day engaged my kayaking skills. By night (and mid-afternoon siesta hours) they engaged me with the chatty, non-English-speaking
proprietors of Los Castaños, a comfortable guesthouse on the Rio Teno in sleepy Los Queñes.

Toward the end of my own Chilean adventure, I found myself sharing a taxi and translating the cab driver’s Chilean dialect for a couple visiting from Spain. Not only had I regained my castellano, but I had gained an
intermediate understanding of Chilean Spanish. Best of all, when I finally returned home, not only could I upright my kayak again, but I could rrrroll my Spanish r’s while doing it.